


At the Station

by Persiflage



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Director Daisy Johnson, Established Relationship, F/M, Fluff, Future Fic, Inspired by Poetry, Older Man/Younger Woman, POV Skye | Daisy Johnson, Retirement, Romance, Sappy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-28
Updated: 2017-04-28
Packaged: 2018-10-24 21:30:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 690
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10750191
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Persiflage/pseuds/Persiflage
Summary: A little 'slice of life' character study of Cousy towards the end of their lives. (No angst, just fluff.)





	At the Station

**Author's Note:**

> This was inspired by this poem I saw online:
> 
> When the girl got off the train at the college town,  
> she leapt up and wrapped her legs around the waist  
> of the boy she’d come to visit, and they spun  
> around, embracing and shrieking with joy.  
> Their love set off a piccolo’s vibration.  
> Those years are gone for us—I see you every day,  
> we eat meals together from decades-old plates.  
> But when we lie in bed at night, you take my hand,  
> and I feel the orb that’s formed around us tighten,  
> while you and I, like knitting needles in a ball  
> of yarn, lie beside each other, fingers touching.
> 
> — "At the Station" by Anya Krugovoy Silver from _nothing_.

Daisy and Phil watch as the young woman who'd been sitting opposite them gets off the train and runs towards a waiting young man. She leaps into his arms and wraps her legs around his waist, and he spins around, both of them crying out with obvious joy, and she feels a tiny pang of envy at the sight. It's a long time she and Phil were young enough for such behaviour – assuming they'd ever been inclined to such a blatantly public display of affection. 

Phil slips his hand into hers as the train moves off and the young pair are left behind on the platform, and she shifts to lean her head against his shoulder. She'll admit, she never expected to live long enough to be this old: she'd been sure that working for SHIELD would result in a relatively early death, but somehow the two of them have survived. And retired. She'd been Director of SHIELD for nearly 30 years – quite the longest any Director has ever been in charge, and while she's proud of the work they did, she's glad to be out of it finally.

The train pulls into their station at last, and Daisy rouses herself from her thoughts to find Phil giving her one of his usual fond smiles, and she squeezes his fingers, then helps him up to his feet. She grabs their bags from the overhead rack, and they climb down from the train before heading to the parking lot.

She drops their bags into Lola's trunk, then helps Phil to ease himself into the passenger seat – the leg she injured so long ago when possessed by Hive troubles him these days in cold weather, so he needs assistance when climbing in and out of Lola or other cars. 

"Okay?" she asks once he's settled.

"Yes thanks," he says, smiling up at her, and on an impulse she leans down and presses her mouth to his in a brief kiss, then she circles the car and climbs into the driver's seat.

"What do you say we stop off for take-out on the way home?" she suggests as she starts up the car, and smiles at Lola's familiar engine hum.

"It has been a long day," he agrees, and she nods, then pulls out of the parking lot, and heads towards home.

DJ-PC-DJ-PC-DJ

Back in their apartment, Daisy gets out the decades-old plates and sets them on the table before pulling out the cartons of Thai food she grabbed on the way home. Phil pours them both a glass of wine, and they settle down to eat and talk, the news playing quietly in the background.

After they've eaten – finishing their meal with slices of apple pie (which Phil still bakes) and scoops of ice cream – Phil makes them coffee while Daisy loads up the dishwasher, then they move into the sitting room where they spend a couple of hours catching up on their emails and other stuff while listening to Bill Withers.

Eventually they make their way to their bedroom and take it in turns to use the loo, then share the handwash basin to clean their teeth side by side, arms and shoulders bumping companionably.

They make love tenderly, then settle side by side on their backs, and Phil slips his hand into Daisy's, and she can't help rejoicing in the fact that technology has come so far that these days his prosthetic hand is as warm as his flesh-and-blood one, and as capable of sensing her touches.

She sighs happily, glad that they have had this chance to grow old together: it's been a full life, and while there have been some occasionally unhappy moments, for the most part, they've been very happy together. They've got two successful careers, and four happy and healthy children (two adopted, two of their own) plus three grand-children to show for their efforts, and she thinks that if they died tonight, she'd go happy in the knowledge that they've done good things.

"Love you," Phil says, leaning sideways, and she turns her head and meets his mouth with hers.

"Love you more," she whispers.


End file.
